for Eileen Conrad,To Marcy Howard
Imagine, that your memories, mean less, rather than more,
That each day’s events, are dimmer, than the day, before,
Imagine, that those simple tasks, forgotten, every day,
Block, the concept, of happiness, just seem, to get, in the way.
Imagine, that the tears, you shed, come, for no, real reason,
And with, the constant, passage of time, you can’t recognize, the season,
Imagine, watching, someone, you love, change, into a child,
As you’re silently wondering, will, she lose, her smile.
Imagine, that the years, you spent, constructing, a happy life,
Disappear, from your construction, the day, becomes, the night,
Imagine, that when you, had less, in reality, it was more,
That happiness, is a state of being, not sadness’s, present cure.
Imagine, that the love you feel, will last, through all the tears,
And when, you awake, at night, her presence, stills, your fears,
Imagine, that you, hold the key, to open, all the doors,
But you, must make, decisions, that you, never, made beore.
Imagine, memory, as a friend, it gives you, a glimpse, of the past,
Who this person, was before, their younger days, at last,
Imagine, that your life, goes on, you’re normal, with your fears,
And love, can not, be washed away.......by, this trail of tears.